only seventeen thousand.'-'No, Sir.'-'Or sixteen.' No.'-'Or (we must make allowances) perhaps but fifteen thousand.'-'Not so much, Sir.' Here ensued a profound silence for near a minute; when the old gentleman rubbing his forehead— 'Well, Madam we must come to some conclusion. Pray, is it less than fourteen thousand?'-'Less, Sir.' 'More than ten thousand?'—'Not so much, Sir. Not so much, Madam?—Not so much.' --'Why, if it is lodged in the fund, consider, interest is low, very low: but as the boy loves her, trifles shall not part us. Has she got eight thousand pounds? Not so much, Sir.'- Why, then, Madam, perhaps the young lady's fortune may not be above six-or five thousand pounds." --Nothing like it, sir.' At those words the old gentleman started from his chair, and running out of the room- -Your servant, your servant: my son is a fool: and the fellow who recommended me to you is a blockhead, and knows nothing of busi

ness.'

THE UNHAPPY SEPARATION.

In this capital (Rome) we have just now witnessed an event, which has drawn tears from every body here. It is five years since a young gentleman, of the family of Amedei, married an amiable and virtuous young woman he loved, but whose birth was not equal to his. At the end of one year, they had a daughter as the fruit of their love but this tender union was in a short time cruelly disturbed by the parents and relations of the gentleman, who exclaimed against his marriage as clandestine, and obtained against the unhappy young man an order of the Pope, by virtue of which they tore him from the arms of his spouse, and conducted him a prisoner to the castle of St Angelo. A process was immediately instituted annulling the marriage. The gentleman tried every means possible, to prove that his marriage was valid, and to have it ratified; his wife went also with her daughter in her arms, and threw herself at the feet of her judges; but in vain. A sentence was at last pronounced, annulling the marriage, obliging the mother, that inconsolable wife, to write to her husband with her own hand, the fatal news of their eternal seperation. Oppressed with the most cruel despair, she thus wrote to him; I find myself under the cruel necessity of renouncing those sweet and sacred bands which

till now have held our hearts firmly united; but, I resign myself with less repugnance, from the consideration that it will be the means of terminating that long and severe captivity, which you have suffered for my sake. Live free, dear husband (this alas! is the last time that my lips will pronounce so sweet a name) O live! take comfort; and, if it be possible, live happy, far from me. Since you love the mother, remember the daughter which she has given you, and take care of her when you know that I no longer exist; for the grief, which this separation causes to me, is so bitter, so penetrating, and absorbs in such a manner the faculties of my soul, that I want strength to resist it. Very soon shall I cease to live; may my death satiate the inhumanity of our cruel persecutors! GOD bless you. Farewell! Farewell! forever!'

Four days afterwards, that unhappy and tender wife died in horrible convulsions; and her death set the gentleman at liberty, whose despair has not yet been calmed.

THE REWARD OF BRAVERY.

In the reign of queen Ann, captain Hardy, whose ship was stationed at Lagos bay, happened to receive undoubted advice of the arrival of the Spanish galleons under a convoy of 17 men of war, in the harbor of Vigo; and without any warrent for so doing set sail, and made such expedition that he came up with Sir George Rook, who was then admiral and commander in chief in the Mediterranean, and gave him that intelligence, which engaged him to make the best of his way to Vigo, where all the before mentioned galleons and men of war were either taken or destroyed. Sir George was sensible of the importance of the advice, and the successful expedition of the captain; but after the fight was over, the victory obtained, and the proper advantages made of it, the Admiral ordered Capt. Hardy on board; and with a stern countenance, You have done, Sir, said he, a very important piece of service to the queen; you have added to the honor and riches of your country by your diligence; but do not you know you are at this instant liable to be shot for quitting your station?' He's unworthy to bear a commission under her majesty, replied the captain, who holds his own life as aught, when the glory and interest of his queen and country requires him to hazard it.' On this heroic answer, the admiral

dispatched him home with the first news of the victory, and letters of recommendation to the queen, who instantly knighted him, and afterwards made him a rear admiral.

Another instance of the reward of bravery, was of the prince of Conte, who being highly pleased with the intrepid behaviour of a grenadier at the siege of Phillipsburgh, in 1734, threw him his purse, excusing the smallness of the sum it contained, as being too poor a reward for his courage. Next morning the grenadier went to the prince with a couple of diamond rings and other jewels of considerable value. Sir, (said he) the gold I found in your purse I suppose your Highness intended me; but these I bring back to you as having no claim to them.' answered the prince, doubly your bravery, and by your they are yours.'

You have, soldier, deserved them by honesty; therefore

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